


Vegetables

by BlueCosmicStorm



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Food, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Physical Health, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCosmicStorm/pseuds/BlueCosmicStorm
Summary: Owen is concerned for Ianto's health when Jack runs after the Doctor. Too bad Ianto isn't.





	Vegetables

"Well, _that's_ not going to happen," Ianto said, staring down his nose at his plate, eyebrow raised in characteristically stubborn defiance.

"Ianto, eat the soddin’ vegetables!"

"’Sodden’ is the right word." Ianto glanced at Owen across the rickety pub table, even as he gestured at the offending items. "Look at them. They're disgusting!"

Owen had to admit the pile looked a bit sad and limp, and the green wasn't exactly the kind one associated with healthful food stuffs. Perhaps the pub was not the best place to start Ianto on the path towards filling out that overly thin frame of his. Of course, the young man would have immediately become suspicious if Owen had invited him someplace for which the primary goal was _not_ getting pissed, so pub food it would have to be.

Things had been tenuous at best for the Torchwood team since Jack's impromptu departure. The team was fractured, and all of them showed signs of falling apart.

...all of them, that is, _except_ Ianto. And that worried Owen more than anything.

The last time he had shown such dogged professionalism, the team had an unknown guest that ended up causing a great deal of havoc and bloodshed before being neutralized.

Having truly believed he could save his girlfriend-turned-Cyberwoman, Ianto had foregone his own health concerns, working late hours and eating very little while he tried desperately to hide his intentions to “fix” said girlfriend from the rest of the team. The stress had caused him to drop an unhealthy amount of weight, among other issues. It had all come to nothing in the end, and his devastation had been so complete, that Ianto’s already deficient weight took a nosedive in the first two weeks after the team terminated “Lisa”. Ianto had been in such a wretched state, in fact, that Owen had feared he might have to put the kid on intravenous fluids.

The Torchwood doctor didn't ever want things to get that bad again.

Owen and Torchwood's "Guy Friday" weren't what you'd call close, but one would have to be blind not to see the growing relationship between Ianto and Jack. Owen had seen the signs. Ianto was falling hard. In rare moments, he thought maybe Jack felt something, too, but he wouldn't bet on it.

So, when Jack left, and Ianto threw himself into the everyday running of Torchwood - taking on what administrative work Jack had done in addition to his own, covering Jack's continued absence with UNIT and the Crown, as well as picking up the slack where Gwen's attempts at leadership fell short - Owen knew Ianto's health was his main priority at present.

It was Owen's job to look after the health and well-being of the team, regardless of feelings, and he'd fallen down on the job one too many times. Ianto was headed toward burnout; it was just a matter of time. He had to keep the young Archivist from killing himself.

If the set of Ianto’s jaw as the young man waved down the waitress was any indication, the first attempt was not going well.

On the other hand, Owen noted while Ianto ordered a basket of fish and chips and asked for the offending plate of vegetables to be removed, the Welshman still had the wherewithal to be a pain in Owen's ass. Perhaps all was not lost just yet.

"Potatoes are vegetables, Owen," the young man said, smirking. Owen rolled his eyes.

On the other hand, perhaps it was.

 

As Ianto took a bite from one of the pile of newly deposited chips, triumph in his smile and that same damnable stubborn defiance dancing in his eyes, Owen just glared at him.

_Stubborn bloody Welsh_ , he thought.


End file.
